Lost
by Pho3niX
Summary: A plane crash. A deserted island. Three survivors: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini. None of them have wands. None of them are prepared to survive in such conditions. Teamwork has never looked so appealing. DMHGBZ.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I only own the plot.

**A/N: **A new fan fiction, one that I've had stewing in my mind for months now. Yes, I will get back on track with my other stories, but when inspiration hits, and hits hard, who am I to resist? Anyway, as per usual, reviews are always highly appreciated, and constructive criticism will not be spurned! So, please, read onwards, and remember to leave a review!

A brief **warning**: I'm putting this fic as M for a reason, though in the first chapter it's more PG-13. Also, this fan fiction _will _be a f/m/m pairing, the ship being HG/DM/BZ.

**Lost**

_Chapter One_

The ground was coarse. And gritty. Sand, a slightly bemused Hermione concluded, was what she was currently lying upon. She tried to open her eyes, but clapped a hand over them, squeezing her eyes back shut again tightly, when viciously bright sunlight hit her pupils. Choking back a cry, she raised a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes furiously.

Letting her hand run back through her tattered, wet hair, she frowned when her fingers encountered a sticky, warm substance. Probing gently, her fingers trailed across a throbbing cut, oozing what could only be blood. Nausea swamped her stomach, and Hermione struggled to repress the urge to vomit. Blinding, white-hot pain exploded in her head, and there was a sudden roaring sound in her ears as her grasp on consciousness faded entirely.

_Hermione smiled softly as she settled back into her seat. The older man in the seat next to her was asleep, a book resting facedown on his lap. The Muggle was a kind, fatherly man, and Hermione had spent the first two hours of the plane flight talking with him. He had spotted the obvious signs of her panicked homesickness, and had reassured her that she'd have a lovely time. It was the first time Hermione had ventured out on her own for a holiday, and the sudden feeling of freedom was heady, euphoric and frightening in its potency._

_The plane rocked slightly with a particularly strong gust of wind, and Hermione jerked in her chair. Sliding her hand into her pocket, she sighed as her fingers reassuringly touched the smooth wood. Despite being a Muggle-born witch, Hermione still felt far more secure with her trusty wand within reach. Muggles may have been brilliant in the creation of the aeroplane, but accidents **did** happen – and Hermione wanted to be fully prepared._

_The seatbelt lights flickered to life, and Hermione clipped hers on, before reaching over to gently wake up the Muggle man, David, next to her. He hurriedly clicked his own seatbelt into place, and picked up his book, giving her a small smile._

"_Some wind, I expect." He commented casually._

_The pilot's voice resounded from the speakers. "We're encountering some turbulence, passengers. Please keep your seatbelts on until the light goes off; we're going to fly through a storm, and the winds may get a little rough. Thank you."_

"_Ah, see, Miss?" David chuckled beside her. "Just some turbulence. Nothing to worry about."_

"_Who says I'm worried?" Hermione murmured._

_He gave her a long look. "It's in your eyes, my girl." He smiled at her. "Really, there is no need to be afraid."_

_He shifted in his chair, returning to his book once more, but Hermione stared ahead of her, unable to shake off the foreboding sense that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong. _

Hermione groaned, feeling water lapping at her feet as her mind resurfaced. Disoriented, she struggled to raise herself up on her arms. Opening her eyes, she once more encountered brilliant sunlight, reflecting sharply off the sand. Blinking repeatedly, she tried to stand, feeling dizzy and strangely sick. Darkness enveloped her mind once more before she made it even halfway to her feet.

_The plane rocked violently beneath Hermione, wind howling past the windows. She gasped, gripping the armrests tightly. Beside her, David, too, looked clearly unsettled, and both jerked in alarm when they saw, out the window, lighting flash dangerously close to the plane. Plane stewards moved around, trying fruitlessly to calm the passengers down. Thunder roared outside, and the plane seemed to shudder from the intensity of the storm. A loud cracking sound came from the left of the plane, straight after another bright flash. _

_There was an ominous silence, and then people screamed as the plane began to wildly tilt. Hermione whipped around in her seat, her horrified eyes taking in the sight of the plane's left wing, now a mass of burning tatters. A flaming piece of debris came loose, heading towards the nearest window. Hermione shut her eyes, and then heard the sound of glass cracking. _

_The eerie sound of pressurized air escaping through the tiny hole sent a sliver of icy fear down Hermione's back, and she struggled to quell the terror that rose up like bile in her throat when the breathing masks dropped down. The whistling sound coming from the ruined window increased in pitch, the whine becoming an insistent drone. Suppressing the urge to scream, she shakily drew a mask over her face, watching as David did the same. Hermione braced herself, glancing at the window before leaning forward to wrap her arms around the chair in front of her. David mimicked her movements, as did a few others._

_A scream tore out of her throat at the sudden sensation of the plane dropping, nose-down, towards the ground far below. A loud, smashing sound heralded the shattering of the glass window, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the suction pulling her inexorably towards the small opening. She felt nauseous, as the feeling of being in an elevator descending too fast increased, the plane plummeting downwards, faster and faster._

_Heat scorched her cheek as another flaming chunk whizzed past. There was an agonized cry, and Hermione turned to see David reel back from the impact as the white-hot shard of metal sliced clean through his shoulder. Hermione reached out to him, trying to pull him back to the dubious safety behind the seats, but the plane made a wrenching motion, and a massive shudder rocked the whole thing. Hermione screamed, watching in terror as the plane seemed to crumple and collapse in upon itself as it hit an expanse of water. Near her, a section of the plane's side was slowly being torn open. _

_Hermione scrambled to her feet, the air pressure reduced, and lunged towards David, grabbing his arm. She pulled him away, moments before a section of seats buckled out of shape, lifting and tearing away from the plane's floor and crashing into the spot he had been in mere seconds ago. Another shard of metal, torn away from some part of the plane's left wing, whipped past. Hermione watched David fall, slowly, to the ground. Sobbing and clutching at his arm, she turned his now prone body over. She wailed, clutching at his arm tighter when she saw that the metal had struck his forehead, blood seeping sluggishly down past blank, lifeless eyes. _

_Hermione feverishly dug her hand into her pocket, fumbling around until she found her wand. Raising it, she barely had the presence of mind to utter a Cushioning Spell before something struck the back of her head, and she felt herself tumbling towards the gaping hole in the side of the plane, black spots dancing across her vision. It was only later that she would realize that the spell had saved her life._

Hermione coughed, spluttering as cool water was dumped over her head. Her mind abruptly kicked into gear, reminding her of the plane crash, and David's sudden death. Choking back a sob, she opened her eyes, finding that the sunlight had lessened to a more bearable level. Someone was crouching before her, and she could hear, past the faint ringing in her ears, the muffled sound of their voice.

"Oh, _fuck_…Gra – ? _Shit_…get…plane crash…dead…no one…_Granger!_"

She propped herself up onto shaking elbows, confusion draining away slowly as comprehension seared through her agile mind. She blinked rapidly, wondering vaguely why her vision was blurry. "Wha – ?"

"Granger," The voice was clearer now. It was a man's voice. "You're hurt, obviously. Can you stand? We need to – hey, no – _no_, don't faint, stay with me, Granger!" He grabbed her shoulders, gently shaking her. She caught sight of platinum blonde hair.

She peered blearily up at her would-be saviour. "How do you know my – " She cut herself off, staring in bewilderment, and gradual shock, at the man before her. "_Malfoy_?" Was the last thing she managed to get out, her tone incredulous, before a sickening swoop of pain made her faint. Again.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter. Sadly.

**Warning:** There is some swearing in this chapter, and this fic is rated M.

**A/N: **Well…it's been a long time :looks guilty:. A really, really long time. My sincere apologies to those out there who waited all this time for an update. I've neglected my fanfics, mostly due to simply not having the right motivation to write or not having the time.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I'm utterly shocked and immensely pleased at such a positive response to the first chapter alone. Your reviews made me smile! Hopefully, you guys will enjoy this chapter (and forgive me for the terribly late update)!

Also, some good news: the third chapter is already in progress!

And to answer a few questions…

No, this story is not related to the TV show _Lost_ (apart from them both involving a plane crash with survivors, initially). Funnily enough, the idea of some of my favourite characters trapped on an island was running around in my mind before that show even aired here in Australia.

In reply to a very good point brought up, Malfoy and Hermione could, of course, have just Apparated, Flooed or gone by Portkey to their destination, but both chose instead to take the Muggle method of travel, for reasons that shall be explained in the next few chapters.

And now… I present the long-awaited Chapter 2:

**Lost**

_Chapter 2_

Hermione moved slightly, tentatively raising a hand to her throbbing head. Blinking slowly, she propped herself up on her elbows, staring in bemusement at her surroundings. She was lying in the shade of some palm trees, with sand on her left expanding out to meet the water about thirty metres away, and more vegetation to her right. Hermione stared as the water lapped at the golden dunes, wondering what in Merlin's name she was doing here and why she felt like she had forgotten something dreadfully important.

Well, clearly, she _had_ forgotten something important if she had no idea where she was. She groaned as she sat up and wracked her brain for the missing memories. "Gah," she muttered, feeling like she'd just been run over by a herd of Hippogriffs.

"So," a less than enthusiastic voice sounded out from behind her, "you're awake."

Hermione started violently, and the adrenaline spike now pumping in her body gave her the energy to ignore her pain and shift to face the space behind her. She grimaced at the flash of platinum blond hair in the sunlight, feeling her memory jog into awareness. _Plane crash. David_…no, no, she was _not _going to think about that…_Someone carrying her_. _A blond man. Huh_. And here she'd hoped her brain had just formed a nightmare from the stress and plastered Malfoy's face on her rescuer. She eyed the blond man carefully. _Clearly, _that_ actually happened… Gah. Malfoy_.

She decided now was probably a good time to get her act together and reply. "No need to sound so happy," she muttered dryly.

He ignored her comment. "We're royally fucked, Granger."

She felt a moment of delirious giggling coming on as her mind instantly jumped to a wisecrack at Malfoy's comment that would have been on par with Ron's usual tactless, pathetic jokes. _No_. She shut off the part of her mind that tried to bring the redhead's goofy face to her mind's eye. _I'm not going to think about him. Them_.

Recognising her near-bout of hysterical giggling as a poor veneer over panic, she forced herself to concentrate.

And frowned at him. "So, I wasn't imagining things when you said my name and – " she cut herself off, feeling uncomfortable talking about him helping her. "It's…really you? Malfoy? _The_ Draco Malfoy? Ferret-Boy?" She added, for good measure.

"And they told me you were valedictorian because you were intelligent." He sneered at her. "Yes, Granger, it's me."

Hermione looked like she'd tasted something sour. "Wonderful."

He bared his teeth in a grin that was definitely not friendly.

"I wish I hadn't recognised you," Hermione muttered. "Ignorance is bliss."

"Ah, Granger, but how could you ever forget a man with such stunningly good looks?" He drawled, smirking at her. "I must say, it took me a moment to recognise you. Your hair's gone from a rat's nest to something curly and vaguely resembling hair. I suppose if you were cleaner you'd look better."

"Maybe if you were white and fluffy I'd recognise you better," Hermione shot back irritably. Immature, but she was too damn tired to do a better job in the first verbal spar in five years with her old nemesis.

She huffed impatiently. "This is ridiculous. I'm a witch, for Merlin's sake." _'ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?' Ron bellowed_ – She abruptly slammed a mental lid down on the memory.

Hermione blinked and focused once more on her surroundings, only to find grey eyes watching her intently. "_What_?" she snapped.

He glared. "I'm waiting for you to get out your wand, Wonder-Witch."

"What? Why?" Her eyes narrowed. "Where's yours?"

"Gone," he said shortly. "Lost in the plane crash."

"So you plan to tag along when I Apparate home?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Basically, yes."

"And what makes you think I'm going to help _you_?"

"I saved your life, you ungrateful witch!" Malfoy sputtered indignantly.

She frowned. Her manners kicked in and reminded her that it was hardly polite to refuse magical help to someone who'd helped her, no matter how much they probably deserved to get stuck on some random island. "Fine. So I owe you."

"One other thing," Malfoy said quietly, holding out a hand to stay her movement.

"Yes?" She growled at him.

He hesitated, something darkening in his eyes. "Use your wand to help me search the island for survivors."

She softened, though wondered at his supposed concern for the Muggles who had been on their plane. Perhaps he hadn't been travelling alone though. It was highly unlikely the pureblooded snob knew anything about planes.

"Of course I'll check for life signs first. I'm going to assume, since you found me, that you were also on the plane and looked for survivors on the beach."

He nodded quietly. "The plane exploded not long after crashing." He shuddered. "I only survived because I was thrown out just before the… landing. I looked for others when I woke up, but found only you." The skin around his eyes tightened fractionally and his mouth settled in a grim line. "I'm hoping there are other people who got lucky and survived."

She tilted her head. "You knew someone on the plane?"

His eyes turned icy. "Get your wand, Granger."

Well. She could take a hint. Still Nosy Granger, it would seem. Hermione tore her gaze away from his face and dragged the ends of her long coat up towards her waist so she could reach the lower pockets. She dug a hand into her right pocket, searching for her wand. She panicked, not finding it immediately, then her hand closed around the end of her wand and she pulled it out.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then Malfoy swore loudly.

Staring miserably at the jagged edge of her broken wand, Hermione couldn't agree more.

* * *

It had taken a long period of time spent cursing, bleeding and general ill-wishing towards wood shards, but they finally managed to get a fire going. _Luckily_, Hermione mused, eyeing the rapidly darkening sky warily. She felt a pair of eyes burning holes into the side of her head, and turned, giving Malfoy a filthy glare.

"What?" She muttered angrily, fingers clenching reflexively as he glowered unhappily at her.

"It's occurred to me that I'm going to be stuck with _you_ for Merlin knows how long." His lip curled upwards in distaste.

She resisted the urge to hurl something at his face. _Preferably something sharp_. She settled instead for an icy glare. "No-one told you to stay with me, you arse," she pointed out. Then felt slightly guilty for the insult and her previous thoughts of maiming him. The man was a git, but he _had_ saved her life. Though she didn't exactly enjoy feeling indebted to _Malfoy_ of all people. _On second thoughts…_ "And I didn't ask for you to save me."

"Like I'd let a girl drown!" He retorted, his eyes flaring.

"I didn't want your damn help!" Hermione screamed hoarsely. Her hand tugged almost viciously through her knotted hair, then dropped to her lap as she turned her face away. "You can't imagine what it feels like to be indebted to someone who hates you so much."

For a long moment, the only sound was the fire crackling. Malfoy was watching her carefully, a strange look on his face.

"I still would have saved you," he said quietly. "Even if I had known exactly who you were."

"So you have a conscience."

"Have I ever denied it?"

More silence.

"I wish you hadn't saved me," her voice was low, throbbing with intensity. She stared down at her now tightly clasped hands, the knuckles stretched white, missing Malfoy's sharp look. "Maybe death would have been better." Her heart clenched at the thought of the kind Muggle David, and his blank, lifeless eyes. And then, unwillingly, memories from the past arose. Faces of those now lost to her. Some dead, with faces just as blank, eyes just as still. And some… _'Traitor!' 'Murderer!' _She closed her eyes, wishing she could just as easily close her mind against the barrage of memories of her past.

With the surfacing of old memories came the bitter tang of loneliness and hurt. And she was reminded again of Malfoy's words. They might be stuck here until they died. She would be stuck here, unable to immerse herself in different cultures, in throngs of people, in an effort to bury her past and the too-loud memories. Perhaps a quick death in the crash would be preferable to this existence.

Something of her old self roused itself then, though, and she suddenly wondered when she'd started thinking about taking the easy way out. Hermione Granger was not a weak person. A pang of guilt seared through her as she remembered those now dead, including those from the plane. Poor, poor David. She would not, could not, wish for death.

Hermione felt the tears well up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Oh, she would live, no matter how difficult it was. What right had she to wish for death when others who should not have died, had died? She would live, and mourn for them, and carry on.

Yet tears now dripped down her face, unbidden, and she licked her lips, tasting salt. She wept for those long gone, and she wept for herself, trapped on an island that would be beautiful if it weren't for the horrible circumstances. She was alone. _Well. Not quite_. She forced herself to stare at her hands, then at the sand by her feet, refusing to look up at _him_.

There was the sudden sound of feet moving across the sand, and then there was a startling warm presence at her back. A calloused hand landed on her shoulder. Hermione stiffened involuntarily, raising a hand to scrub at her eyes and cheeks.

He used a firm hand to tilt her chin towards him. "Granger, you annoy the hell out of me." His eyes met hers. "But I would never let you die."

She stared at him, wondering when he had grown so mature. Opening her mouth to reply, Hermione was silenced when he shook his head. He removed his hands and returned to his side of the fire.

"Get some sleep."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**A/N: **Thank you so much to those who reviewed Chapter 2!!! I hope you enjoy this next instalment! Sorry for the long wait, guys!

**Lost**

_Chapter 3_

"Granger."

Malfoy stared in consternation at the sleeping brunette below him.

"Granger, wake up." He cautiously poked her side with the tip of his foot. He groaned when Hermione merely rolled over to her other side.

"Damnit, get up, witch!" He growled at her, crouching down to shake her shoulder.

Hermione jerked awake and blindly struck out at the figure hovering over her. Malfoy dropped back with a curse, holding his shoulder and glaring at her. Hermione jerked upright, gasping for breath and eyes shooting to meet stormy grey ones. _Eugh. It's just Malfoy._

She groaned aloud and decided to agree with her body's painful protests and lie back down. "Go away, Malfoy."

"Granger," he hissed, "get up before I decide to throw you in the water for punching me."

She turned over and snuggled her nose into the upturned collar of her coat. "Well," she mumbled, eyes closed and already seeking oblivion from her aches and pains, "that's what you get for molesting a girl in her sleep."

Malfoy's eyebrow twitched. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned over the girl and let his lips trail along her jaw line to rest lightly against her ear.

"Nnnh?" Hermione mumbled incoherently, wondering at the somewhat pleasant sensation.

"Granger," he all but purred. "Get up…NOW!" He added with a roar.

Hermione bolted upright, suddenly wide awake, and then glared at the smirking man who had ducked away just in time to avoid a nasty collision. _Okay. _Not_ so pleasant sensation_. She glared at Malfoy.

"What is your problem?!"

He sneered, eyes turning blank and cold. "We need food, Granger. And while I'm tempted to leave you sleeping alone while I look for food and let some savage Muggle beast eat you, the screams would ruin my appetite."

Hermione huffed and made to stand up. As soon as she moved her right leg, though, pain licked up her nerve endings like liquid fire, making her grimace and turn pasty white.

Malfoy eyed her warily, still holding his left shoulder. "Since the sun's up, there's also enough light for me to check your wounds."

"I'm fine," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"So the red in your hair is plainly for fashion purposes?" Malfoy inquired. "It does go rather well with the matted style, of course."

Hermione scowled at him, and then raised a hand to feel the back of her head. She pressed down where she could feel the ache that she'd pushed to the back of her mind's notice. Black dots paraded in front of her vision, and the sudden, sharp pain made her hastily withdraw her hand and gulp for air.

"Why do you care?" She asked quietly after a moment.

"It's nothing overly sentimental, I assure you, Granger," he drawled. "I'll treat your wounds, and in return, you can examine my shoulder and do what little you can."

She glared. _Git_.

* * *

"Ow!" Hermione jerked away from Malfoy's gentle fingers and glared at him. "I said that _hurts_!" _Git, indeed_.

He glared right back at her. "If you'd just drop the whining and _sit still_, then things like this _wouldn't happen_, Granger!"

She subsided with a mutter that sounded suspiciously like "damn ferret". She heard Malfoy breathe heavily through his nose, and felt a moment's pleasure at knowing he was just as annoyed as her. Then forgot her smug thoughts as his fingers found a particularly sensitive part of the wound on the back of her head.

She made a pained noise in the back of her throat, and his fingers instantly gentled even further – _is that even possible? I have to admit, he's been so careful already_.

"It looks like a shard of the plane hit you, Granger," He paused, and then added quietly, "You're lucky to be alive; I saw someone get hit with one and it wasn't pretty."

"Cushioning Charm," Hermione said.

"Ah," he hummed quietly. He reached for the water he'd found in a small stream nearby, boiled over the fire in the husk of some large, sturdy fruit he'd come back with a while ago.

She watched out of the corner of her eye, astonished, when he set the makeshift water container down and lifted up his coat and shirt to reveal a tight undershirt of some kind. To Hermione, it looked like a male Muggle tank top, but she thought he'd be offended if she related a probably once-very-expensive Wizarding garment to Muggle store-bought clothes.

Hermione gaped as he proceeded to rip off strips from the somewhat clean undershirt, dipping a couple in the water. He reached for her head and gently dabbed at the wound. Hermione bit her lip, refusing to cry out as the pain made spots dance in front of her vision once more. She could taste the salty tang of blood in her mouth.

After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted the now dirty rag away and handed her a clean, dry one. "Put as much pressure as you can on it. Hopefully the rest of the bleeding will stop."

He moved to her side so he could see her face better. "Is anything else badly injured?"

Hermione hesitated, remembering the stabbing pain in her lower leg. She didn't want to know, hadn't even tried to peel the fabric away from her leg to assess the damage. "My leg," she whispered. She looked away when he knelt by her outstretched leg, the other pulled up so she could wrap her arms about it.

She cried out when he slowly peeled the fabric away. And swayed at the sight of her swollen ankle and the jagged cut curving round her heel and lower calf.

Malfoy hissed quietly. "Damn, Granger. This looks bad." He gave her a look. "There's some metal shards still left in the wound. This is going to hurt."

He picked up two long, fine metal pieces salvaged from the wreck and thrust them into the fire. He waited for the metal to cool, and then turned back to her leg and began the arduous task of cleaning the wound.

Hermione was infinitely grateful when blackness overtook her vision completely after the first agonising moment, not even aware of her short, strangled cry as she fainted.

* * *

She woke up some time later, feeling dizzy and thirsty. She struggled to sit up, ignoring the dull throb in her head and newly bandaged ankle.

"Here." Malfoy thrust out a smaller fruit husk that was clearly intended as a makeshift cup to drink the boiled water. She took it gratefully and drank greedily, moving to sit up and rest her arms against her upraised knees.

And promptly choked, staring with surprise at her leg. She shouldn't have been able to move it!

"Wha – ?"

Malfoy sighed. "I may not have my wand, but I was trained to some degree in wandless magic." He glanced at her ruefully. "Of course, there are limits. Apparation is impossible without a wand to augment and channel your power. And I'm not too adept at healing. I was taught more… offensive wandless magic usually."

Hermione stared at him, eyes wide. "You did an amazing job at healing this. But doesn't wandless magic drain you?"

He arched a brow. "I'm hardly weak, Granger."

She frowned. "Yeah, right. But…why did you do it?"

He sneered, the mask falling back into place on his face and making his eyes smooth over like ice, revealing nothing. "I'm not going to spend all my time searching for food while you laze about every day. I need you to be able to walk, if badly."

Hermione glared at him, but privately wondered if that was really his only motive. _Hah! It's _Malfoy_, of course it's his only motive. He's not the type to care _that_ much about people like me_.

He kneeled beside her, turning grey eyes to bore into her skull. She shifted uncomfortably. "My shoulder," he said quietly.

Hermione started. "Oh! Um…I'll have a look, then." She awkwardly shifted around to face him, and hesitated, her hands hovering over his clothed left shoulder. He sighed impatiently, and shrugged his coat off with only the slightest grimace of pain, then opened the buttons going down the front of his shirt, shrugging that off too. He lifted his arms to try and pull the tight undershirt off, but grunted in pain.

"Here," Hermione said, and took hold of the top and slid it off him as gently as possible. She gasped at the ugly sight of the angry-looking wound marring his shoulder, clearly caused by a fragment of the ruined plane.

Years of practice from long ago during the war made it quick work for her to grab the excess strips of material and use a dampened one to clean Malfoy's wound efficiently. She didn't flinch at the nasty sight, well used to caring for wounds during war time. _The boys had often stumbled back to Headquarters, dripping with grime, sweat and blood, and she had always look_– Hermione closed her eyes and forced the memory away.

Finally, the wound was as clean as possible. She felt guilty for the heavy breaths Malfoy was taking, knowing this had to be painful, but it was necessary. She tentatively raised fingers to the wound, closing her eyes and trying to remember what Madame Pomfrey had taught her about wandless healing. '_Breathe. Focus. Imagine your wand is an extension of your hand. Imagine that your wand is part of your hand, a long finger. Now feel the magic that travels up your arm and through that finger. Now direct it to another finger. They are all the same. Focus. Picture the spell's words in your mind. Let it channel through this finger and then release the spell.' _

Hermione breathed in deeply, and picked her index finger. Imagining a well-known healing spell, she let it tingle up her hand and trickle into Malfoy's shoulder, repairing some of the damage.

Her eyes flew open, a gasp escaping her lips, when her hand was suddenly wrenched away and held tightly, almost painfully, in Malfoy's own, much larger, hand. Her concentration was, inevitably, completely ruined, and she noticed that while the wound looked far less inflamed and deep, it was nowhere near healed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Malfoy snarled at her, suddenly angry.

Hermione was confused. "Er…healing your shoulder."

She blinked, and felt herself sway slightly as the customary weariness born of wandless magic overtook her. His eyes caught her movement and his glare seemed to intensify.

"There was no need to use wandless magic."

_Well, excuse me for trying to heal you as much as possible_. She huffed.

"_You_ did," Hermione felt inclined to point out. It was certainly better than admitting she'd wanted to do her best at healing him.

His mouth twisted. "Ah, the Gryffindor in you. A bunch of tit-for-tat '_Saints_'," the last word was hissed out between clenched teeth, and Hermione got the impression it wasn't meant to be complimentary.

"I could hardly leave you injured and not do _something_," Hermione snapped back, equally bemused and angry at his reaction. "What is your _problem_, Malfoy?"

He didn't answer her, lips merely tightening into a thin line.

A horrible suspicion was forming in her mind. "Can't tell me why?" She took a breath, trying to control her anger at his sullen silence and feeling her insecurities grow with the lack of a reply. "Is it that you just don't want a Muggleborn to touch you? Help you?" She asked it softly, not really believing it. After all, why help her in the first place if he was still such a bigot?

Even this got no response. Hermione ran out of patience and struggled to her feet, approaching his side once more. _Even if he is being stubborn, I still have to help him_. She sighed and reached her hands out to his shoulder once more. He stiffened, but stayed still. Her fingertips tingled with the raw healing magic once more, and Hermione swayed at the incredible drain it took on her.

There was a hiss, so low Hermione barely managed to notice it in her fatigue. Malfoy's hand whipped up to grab her arm in an iron hold, steadying her even as he firmly pulled her away from his shoulder.

"No, Granger," he said, very quietly.

"But it's not healed yet, Mal – "

He cut her off. "Leave it; it's good enough for now." He sighed, clearly irritated at her anxious look and fingers already outstretched to do more magic, despite her obvious fatigue. "You can help me bandage it, if you're that desperate to help."

She bristled, but wordlessly reached over and collected the last few scraps of cloth.

* * *

Hermione limped along the beach behind Malfoy, grumbling under her breath at his high-and-mighty leadership act. She wasn't an idiot; she didn't need him to explain to her that they would need to search for food - and survivors. Wobbling along behind Ferret-Boy using a long thin piece of metal as a makeshift walking stick in sand was _not_ her idea of a good time.

Straining to pull herself along, she tried to ignore the pain in her leg by scanning the water. The plane had ripped into chunks, some carried away by the tide, some sinking, and others just scattered too far away to be seen from their initial resting spot. They had just passed another hunk of twisted metal on the sand, but no sign of life so far.

They both stopped, staring at the same thing: a large, somewhat intact section of a plane cabin. Malfoy made an incomprehensible noise, then made his way over to the wreckage. Hermione hobbled behind him at a slower pace.

She regretted following him.

Malfoy swore loudly as he searched through the broken off section of plane. "Don't come in, Granger," he called out.

"I can help you search!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"You can't move around in this junk with a bad leg, Granger, so just shut up and stay there."

Realisation dawned. "You don't think there's anyone still alive to rescue, do you?" she whispered, feeling nausea rise up once more.

Malfoy grunted. "We'll see."

After ten minutes of rummaging and quiet cursing, Malfoy came back out, his face grave.

"No one?" Hermione whispered.

He shook his head grimly. "There's some…bodies… in there. I'll get them out."

Hermione, trembling, nodded her head and watched as he re-entered the wreckage, only to appear a minute later half-carrying, half dragging the body of a woman. Hermione reached out with one hand, the other balancing herself with her cane, and helped Malfoy lower the body to the ground.

In the end, they found 11 bodies. Hermione had been in a war, but the sight of lifeless people still made her stomach lurch. "We should bury them," she whispered.

Malfoy agreed, and they spent the next three hours gathering wood before lighting the pyre.

Hermione looked at Malfoy. "I'm beginning to think no one else has survived."

Malfoy's lips thinned, his eyes turning icy. "We'll see."

"I just find it strange that we have survived, but no-one else has, as far as we know. And some of those bodies…the injuries didn't look that bad."

Malfoy sighed. "They could have died from internal bleeding, or something, Granger."

"I _know_ _that_, Malfoy," she said, irritated, "but it's still strange that we survived and no Muggles have so far."

He shrugged. "You used magic to cast a cushioning charm; if you hadn't, you might have been killed, too."

Hermione let the matter drop and turned instead to watch the flickering fire. She hoped they would find some others.

Two days later, they still hadn't found anyone else alive.

* * *

Hermione was following Malfoy. Again. This time, they were exploring the vegetation in search of food. Searching through the scattered sections of charred plane, they had already found a couple of suitcases, and some containers of food, but the small supply of edible food would not last for long.

Malfoy stopped, and reached out to touch the fruit on a tree. "Here, Granger. Hold up the coat." They were using spare clothes salvaged from the suitcase as makeshift carry bags.

Hermione sat down, relieving some of the ache in her leg, and held up the 'sack' as Malfoy searched the area, plucking fruit and dropping them in the coat.

"We're going to have to see if there's any sort of wild animal around here, too," Malfoy said quietly. "Don't suppose you know how to hunt?"

Hermione snorted. "No, I didn't think I'd ever need to know. We'll learn."

Malfoy didn't comment, turning back to search for more fruit instead.

Afterwards, they searched the salvaged suitcases and metal containers for any useful items.

"Aha!" Hermione said triumphantly. She showed Malfoy her find: a dented metal pot. "We can use this to boil our water, now."

He grunted. "Finally, something useful."

"We should think about making a shelter, you know," Hermione commented after a time of quiet rummaging.

He glared at her. "Do I look like a builder to you, especially with this shoulder?"

Hermione clenched her teeth. _Stupid git_. "I was just making a suggestion. We can't live under a tree forever, it's only useful for shade, it won't help us if it rains."

He stared at her for a moment. "Fine; we'll see what we can do tomorrow. It's getting too dark now to start."

Later that night, snuggled up in spare clothes, Hermione stared at the night sky and wondered what deity was cruel enough to maroon her on an island with no survivors except for her old arch-nemesis. Even if they were able to be civil, for the moment, at least.

**TBC**


End file.
